


Unyielding

by angerwasallihad



Series: Behind the Curtain [5]
Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, Mother!ship, Sweet Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3120377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angerwasallihad/pseuds/angerwasallihad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Sharon nodded. He was starting to get it. This unconditional love thing. This idea that she could shout and seethe at her family (him included) and it wouldn’t be the end of their relationship. But his obvious surprise that she had defended him so vehemently still gave her pause.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unyielding

Slipping her shoes off the moment she came through the door, Sharon closed it as quietly as she could manage and laid her keys and purse with equal care on the side table. She glanced around the slowly lightening condo quickly. Ricky was snoring quietly on the couch; padding silently over in her bare feet, she looked down at her middle child, arms and legs flung every which way, the couch not quite long or wide enough to contain him. She smiled down at the familiar image, but there was still a prevailing reticence on her mind. From his comments the previous afternoon and evening, it was clear that Rusty was right; Ricky was not completely on board. 

 

Turning away from the couch, Sharon slipped as quietly as she could down the hall to her bedroom, taking extra care outside Rusty’s door. Ricky could sleep through an earthquake. He’d always been that way; even back when Jack would come home at all hours, shouting drunkenly into the dark house, Ricky rarely stirred. 

 

Rusty, on the other hand, woke at the slightest creak outside his door. Sharon knew it was a sensibility born out of necessity. She tried not to think about the year he had spent sleeping in a near-constant state of alertness; but it was part of him. Lately, over the past few months in the absence of death threats and protection details, he’d started to sleep later. His head stopped immediately popping into the hall the moment she walked through the door on those nights and mornings when she returned at an ungodly hour. He’d stopped locking his bedroom door.

 

Sharon stopped in the hallway outside her door and looked across toward Rusty’s. On instinct, she turned away from her own bedroom and slowly peeked into Rusty’s room. 

 

It was still mostly dark, the curtains blocking all but a small strip of light from the rising sun, which fell across the end of his bed. With surprise, Sharon saw that he was sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard. The comforter and sheets were a knotted mess on the end, a tell-tale sign of the sleepless night Rusty must have suffered. Looking into his drawn face and dejected appearance, Sharon doubted he’d gotten any more rest than she had. 

 

There was no surprise in his eyes at her sudden appearance in his doorway; clearly, he had heard her come in minutes ago. Trying to smile lightly despite his obvious anxiety, she came fully into the room and closed the door softly behind her. 

 

“Hey,” she whispered as she stepped slowly toward the bed. 

 

“Hey.” Rusty dropped her gaze, looking down at his hands in his lap. 

 

At the end of the bed now, Sharon pointed down at it. “Do you mind if I…?” 

 

Rusty looked up for a moment, then back down at his hands. “Yeah. Sure.” 

 

Sharon tugged at the sheets and comforter, untangling them slightly and smoothing out a place to sit. 

 

“Oh. Sorry.” Rusty stopped scrutinizing his hands finally and scooted toward the end of the bed in an effort to help her. 

 

But Sharon just waved him away, smiling in that reassuring way before settling on the end of the bed, legs curled up behind her. Rusty made to move back toward his earlier place at the head of the bed, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

 

“So,” she began, still whispering, “you didn’t get much sleep.”

 

“No.” He crossed his legs, the angles of his knees just barely touching the side of her thigh, looking down at his hands, which had begun to fidget nervously with the hem of his shirt. 

 

Sharon looked on thoughtfully. He was curling in on himself. The way he used to sit and sleep back in those early days when she’d been trying to get him off the couch and into this room. It was protective, closed off. Just a week ago she’d woken in the early hours of the morning to find that they had fallen asleep in front of a movie again. She’d slept comfortably curled into the corner of the couch while Rusty had somehow ended up stretched along the length of the cushions, ankles and feet slightly tangled in her own. Now, this return to the confined, protective resting position spoke volumes to Sharon. 

 

“You are right.” 

 

Rusty’s head popped up in surprise at her words, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Sharon held up a hand to silence him. 

 

“But I am right too.” She lowered her hand back down to his forearm, a soft and reassuring touch. “Ricky is not exactly on the same page as we are.” 

 

Seeing him on the verge of speaking again, Sharon squeezed his arm briefly as she continued. “ _But_.” She looked him squarely in the eyes. “I will get him there. Don’t worry.” Finally she allowed him to speak. 

 

“But maybe—No, listen, Sharon—maybe we should just wait a little while.” 

 

Sharon watched his hands begin to twist more anxiously in his lap, tugging at the hem of his shirt. Slowly, gently, she covered his fidgeting hands with her own, stilling them. 

 

“Honey, if you aren’t sure—“

 

She felt him tense suddenly at the words, and she pulled her hands back into her own lap.

 

“No! God—No, Sharon, that’s not what I meant at all.” Seeming to realize how loudly he’d spoken, he relaxed again slightly, whispering, “No. I just meant that maybe we should let Ricky, like, get used to the idea or something.” His eyes met hers a little fearfully. “Unless you’ve, like, changed your mind—“

 

Sharon could almost see all the fight go out of him at these words, and her face fell. Her hand went instinctively up to his cheek, touching him lightly and cautiously at first. He didn’t pull away. 

 

“I’m sure,” she said softly, stroking his cheek lightly with her thumb. “I’ve been sure for quite some time.” Her hand moved from his cheek up to his forehead, brushing his hair gently away from his face unnecessarily in that characteristic gesture of affection. “If you want to wait, though, we can do that.” Her hand finally dropped back into her lap. “But I’d really rather not.” 

 

Rusty looked unconvinced. “But if Ricky—“ 

 

“I am going to work all this out with Ricky,” Sharon said smoothly. “I’m sure he’s just feeling a little displaced and needs some attention. Which he will get this morning.” She looked down at her lap this time. “But if something were to happen to you, or to me…” Her voice shook a little on the last words, and one hand came up to rub unconsciously at her own forehead, a sign of the tears threatening. She blinked several times and took a deep breath. “I just—We shouldn’t put it off.” 

 

Her eyes met his once more, and he seemed much more relaxed. Slowly, Sharon swung her legs back over the edge of the bed, getting to her feet. 

 

“Okay?” She gave him a final searching look, and he nodded. 

 

“Okay.” 

 

She smiled. “Alright. Now you,” she leaned over the bed and began tugging and untangling the bedclothes with a practiced hand, “need to get some sleep.” She finally drew the sheet over his legs as he slid back toward the headboard and pulled the comforter over himself. “You and Ricky can stay here; I should be back a little early today.” She patted his cushioned form on the bed, her hand coming up to quickly ruffle his hair before she moved away. She pulled the curtains at the window more completely shut before walking to the doorway and passing through it quietly. “Sleep,” she whispered to the dark room as she carefully closed the door behind her. 

 

A cup of coffee—no hope of sleep until much later made this a coffee morning—, a shower, and a change of clothes later, and Sharon could hear Ricky moving around in the living room. It seemed that Rusty might have finally fallen asleep, so she let him be and made her way out to face her other son. 

 

“Morning, Mom.” 

 

Sharon saw he was sitting on the couch, typing away at his computer with his feet up on her coffee table. She let it pass; he seemed to be wearing clean socks, at least. She never had been able to break him of that particular habit, propping his feet up on anything and everything. At this point it seemed a little pointless to fuss. Particularly this morning, when her mission was to give him a little one-on-one attention as a form of reassurance. So she looked over it, continuing through the room and into the kitchen.

 

“Good morning, Darling.” 

 

She’d done this particular dance more than once with her children in the past; give one a little more Mothering and attention in an effort to offset the sort of envy and displaced feelings that often occurred between siblings. The loving endearment, the bright and happy demeanor, it was all part of her plan this morning. She hoped she wasn’t overdoing it. It had been quite some time since she had had to go all out in this way; she’d never had to do it to this extent since Ricky and Emily had moved out. It was possible she had gotten a little—for lack of a better word—rusty in the intervening years. 

 

“Find your shooter?” 

 

Sharon turned back to face him for a moment at his words before she reached the kitchen, hoping to give the impression that he had her full attention. 

 

“Our sniper, yes. It turned out, he was the son of an army ranger. His mother committed suicide.” Ricky’s eyes finally met hers for a moment as she spoke before he turned back to his computer. Sharon spun back to the kitchen when he dropped her gaze, continuing, “He’s a very troubled young man.” She dropped her empty mug into the sink and was in the process of moving toward the refrigerator to retrieve a yoghurt when Ricky’s next words stopped her. 

 

“Hm. You’re not gonna be adopting him too, are you?”

 

And there it was. 

 

Sharon had allowed the earlier comments, the quiet refusal to go to dinner with Rusty, that dig about invading his space, she’d let them pass. But not this one. She turned away from the refrigerated breakfast possibilities and started to make her way over to face Ricky, attempting to maintain that same bright and reassuring attitude as she spoke. 

 

“Let’s discuss this adoption. Because I feel your lack of enthusiasm from a great distance.” She settled in the chair beside him, keeping her tone light but making it clear that they were going to get to the bottom of this. “And I’d like to know,” she continued, smiling kindly, “what’s that about?” 

 

Ricky finally removed his feet from the coffee table and set his computer aside in a way that told Sharon that he was expecting and had prepared for this conversation. He had some sort of rehearsed speech coming, she could tell. And it wasn’t reassuring. 

 

“Okay. Right off the bat, I want you to know that I understand a lot of what you’re going through.” 

 

Starting off with some sort of disclaimer… Sharon could tell that this did not bode well. And that Ricky at least didn’t consciously think that this was about having to share her so much during his visit so far. Clearly, he thought it was something else entirely and she was going to need another approach. 

 

“Dad was a letdown as a husband.” 

 

At these words, Sharon’s eyes widened, but she held her tongue, waiting to see where he was going with this. Jack had been more than a letdown. He’d been a disaster. But Ricky didn’t know about most of that. She’d made sure of it.

 

“Emily left for New York, to do her ballet thing, I left for Paolo Alto, I don’t make it home all that often; you work all the time. It’s a recipe for loneliness.” 

 

Sharon looked away for a moment, her mind working madly in the wake of this unexpected turn in the conversation, realization dawning. Ricky’s mouth might be moving, but these were not his words. 

 

“And I—Mom, I have a lot of sympathy for you on that score.”

 

Remaining silent as he continued, Sharon looked around in shock bordering on disbelief. 

 

“And also you are incredibly giving, and caring.” 

 

Was he psychoanalyzing her? Richard Raydor, the young man who had nearly flunked his single psychology course in college was sitting across from her, spelling out her deep psychic loneliness. It would have been hilarious if it weren’t so infuriatingly condescending. And didn’t have Jack’s fingerprints all over it. 

 

 “But Mom, that kid, he’s a- he’s a hustler and he’s—“ 

 

His voice rose, and Sharon made a shushing gesture, thinking of the sleepless night Rusty had suffered and all the hard work that this conversation might destroy if overheard. Ricky obeyed, lowering his voice again. 

 

“—and a con artist. And I think that he’s taking advantage of you.” 

 

Still silent, Sharon smiled a little bemusedly. It _was_ almost entertaining to see Ricky’s mouth moving but only Jack’s words flowing out of it. Or it would have been, if it weren’t so offensive. 

 

“…And look, you did so much for me. You were tough and honest when I needed it… And now I think I need to do the same for you. I need to…take the hit, like you did, and-and be the bad guy for a minute. And step in to say that this is _not a good idea._ ” 

 

Ricky finally stopped, giving her an opportunity to respond. Struggling to maintain a civil and conversational mood, Sharon spoke. 

 

“May I ask, have you by any chance been talking with your father about this?” 

 

Her tone was no longer light and understanding, but it wasn’t argumentative either. Predictably, her words evoked a defensive reaction from her son. 

 

“Yeah, we talked a few times. I mean, he’s worried about you. Mom, _I’m_ worried about you. I am!” 

 

Listening silently, Sharon looked away from the conversation again, considering Ricky’s words. This was, she supposed, the unlucky consequence of so fiercely and successfully protecting Ricky and Emily from Jack’s shortcomings as a father and a human being. They had seen only what they had had to, Sharon had made sure of that. She hadn't spoken ill of him in front of them. Made excuses for him. She wasn’t even sure either of them were fully aware of the deep financial hole Jack had left for her to dig out of, alone. And this was the consequence, sitting before her. A son who referred to Jack as merely a “letdown.” Who spoke earnestly of how “worried” Jack was about _her_. Sharon nearly snorted at the thought. Given the most recent events, Sharon was not sure Jack even know what it was to worry about anyone but himself. But Sharon remained silent. 

 

“…Look, helping the kid a little bit, that’s great. But to make him legally your son?” 

 

Ricky seemed at a loss for words for a moment, shaking his head in disbelief. 

 

“I, I just think that we need to take a giant step back here and just reevaluate—“ 

 

Sharon had had enough. “Hold on, hold on.” She raised a hand to silence him. “Before we go back, I should clear up a big misunderstanding that you have.” 

 

Ricky seemed taken aback for a moment. “Okay…” 

 

The image of Rusty anxiously curled in on himself earlier that morning suddenly flashed across her mind; her assurance that she wanted him, and that this was going to happen no matter what. 

 

“I am not asking your _permission_ to adopt Rusty. Or Emily’s _permission_.” Ricky looked away from her intense gaze as her voice crossed over into that dangerous tone of quiet controlled anger. “I see great things in this boy, and I mean that from the bottom of my ever-so-lonely heart.” She spoke the last words coldly, laced with fury. 

 

“Come on, Mom, you know that I did not mean loneliness as a criticism. I was only pointing out the fact that—“ 

 

But Sharon was done being polite, finished with his quiet condescension. 

 

“It’s clear what you were pointing out. Now I’m pointing out to you,” she pointed sharply at him, her voice matching the gesture, “if you don’t develop a little human compassion for this young man, who grew up with _none_ of the advantages you took for granted _every day of your life_ ,” her voice rose over his open mouthed expression of indignation and disbelief, despite her earlier attempts to let Rusty sleep. She got quickly to her feet. “Then I am going to leave here wondering where I went wrong as a mother.” She spun away from him angrily, walking to the door. 

 

“Mom.” Ricky got up to follow her. “Mom! Wait, wait, wait, wait.” 

 

She stopped and turned back to look up at him, towering above her.

 

“Hang on. Look,” he started, in a tone that suggested he was shocked at her reaction, “I’m gonna have children one day. So is Emily. Do you really want your grandkids calling that boy ‘Uncle Rusty’?” 

 

Sharon was almost at a loss for words. She could barely look at him, so intense was her fury. Was he really trying to talk her out of this based on names and the hypothetical grandchildren he knew she so looked forward to? Did he really think that her stubborn nature and unyielding love could be so easily swayed?

 

“That is a whole lot better than what I’m thinking of calling you right now,” she uttered vehemently. 

 

“ _Mom!_ ” Ricky shook his head incredulously at her words.

 

“Richard William Raydor,” Sharon seethed, “you listen to me and you listen to me good.” her voice shook slightly with angry tears. “You’ve got one chance to get this right.” She was nearly shouting now, all concern for their volume forgotten in her outrage at the unexpected turn the conversation had taken. “You need to _turn your attitude around_ ,” she emphasized each word, “ _RIGHT THIS MINUTE_ ,” her voice dropped to an intense whisper on the last phrase, her being seeming unable to contain her wrath for a moment. “Because if you make Rusty feel unwelcome in this family, after all of his, and my, hard work, I will be just so—“ 

 

Sharon stopped, her anger beyond words for a moment. Images of all they’d achieved over the last two years flashed across her mind. The endless shouting matches during those first few months. Rusty’s face, beaten bloody on her watch. That horrified look on his face at the word “whore-phan.” The utter sadness in his voice after that last conversation with his mother. The joy and amusement in his eyes at the party she’d thrown for him just last week. She would not allow all that work to come crashing down upon them, especially not because of Ricky’s recent behavior. She would not have it. 

 

“—disappointed,” she finally finished in a tearful angry whisper. 

 

At her words, Sharon could see a small flash of something that could have been shame finally cross Ricky’s face. 

 

“Oh my _God,_ ” she continued sadly, holding his gaze steadily. “I am so disappointed in you right now, I don’t even know what to say.” The silence settled between them, and Sharon continued to glare at him for a moment, seeing the tears of shame pooling in his eyes. Holding back her own tears, she turned on her heel and left without another word. 

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

When she walked back through that same door hours later, the condo was quiet. Ricky was back on the couch, clicking away at his computer once more. Feet up on the coffee table again. Sharon sighed, but didn’t address the issue. 

 

“Hey.”

 

“Mom.” 

 

Ricky looked up as she entered, smiling a little tightly. 

 

Sharon looked around the room deliberately, then asked, “Is Rusty here?” 

 

Closing up his computer, Ricky got to his feet and turned to her. 

 

“Yeah, he’s back in his room. I think he’s scared of me, to be honest.” 

 

Not saying a word, Sharon quirked an eyebrow at him. 

 

“I know, Mom. With good reason. I was a jerk.” 

 

Sharon nodded. “That’s true.” She stepped out of her shoes and hung her purse by the door. “And if you’ve decided to make a change, then that’s all I’ll say about it.” She looked over her shoulder at him pointedly. 

 

“I have.” 

 

Touching his face affectionately as she passed, she nodded. “Good.” She padded toward the hallway, turning back at the last moment. “I haven’t slept in nearly two days, so I’m not cooking tonight. Why don’t you pick some take-out and take the Volvo to pick it up?” 

 

Ricky looked slightly confused. “I’m pretty sure they deliver around here, Mom.” 

 

“They do, but I’d much rather you went and picked it up,” Sharon replied, smiling sweetly at him. 

 

Crossing his arms lightly over his chest, Ricky sighed. “You know, if you want me to make myself scarce so you and Rusty can talk for a minute, you could just say so.” 

 

“Oh.” Sharon visibly relaxed. “I do. But I also want some Kung-Pao chicken and beef and broccoli.” She smirked. 

 

“I thought I was choosing the place!” Ricky let out a sound of exasperation. 

 

Sharon continued to smirk, pulling her jacket off as she answered. “Well you were going to pick that Chinese place down the road. So I saved you some valuable time.” Folding her jacket over her arms, she gestured gently with her hands. “Go on.” She turned from him, walking down the hall to her room. She sat heavily on the end of her bed, trying very hard not to just fall back and sleep fully clothed. She removed her glasses and closed her eyes for a moment, rubbing the bridge of her nose. There was a sudden creak in the hallway, and Sharon’s eyes snapped open again to find Rusty’s head peeking uncertainly through the open doorway. 

 

“Rusty.” She got to her feet again quickly. “I just need a minute to change, alright? And then we can talk for a minute.” 

 

“Oh. Okay.” He backed out of the doorway quickly. 

 

“Just wait for me out in the living room?” She closed the door softly on his muffled sound of assent and heard him cautiously make his way down the hall. She quickly changed into something more comfortable and slipped back down the hall to the living room. 

 

Rusty was in the kitchen, pulling a soda from the refrigerator when she entered. Sharon could see that much of the crippling anxiety from that morning had disappeared. He seemed a little lighter, more comfortable. 

 

“You get any more sleep this morning?” She perched on one of the bar stools, facing him. 

 

“Yeah—Well, no. Not really.” He gave her a sideways glance. “Full disclosure?” 

 

Sharon nodded in encouragement. 

 

“I heard you this morning.”

 

Her heart stopped; shoulders slumped. If he had heard, that might be a pretty large complication.

 

“I-I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything, Sharon, I swear,” he rushed to explain. “I’m just not a very heavy sleeper, you know, and, like, you guys were sort of loud.”

 

Sharon relaxed slightly. It was possible he hadn’t heard the damaging parts. The hurtful things Ricky had said before Sharon had shouted at him. 

 

“How much did you hear?” 

 

Rusty sipped his soda calmly, avoiding her gaze. 

 

“You know, just, like, the part when you got mad.” He looked up at her now, grinning a little. “So, Ricky’s not crazy about my name, huh?” 

 

They looked at each other for a moment, Sharon gauging his reaction. Then they both started to laugh. 

 

Sharon stopped first, sobering quickly. 

 

“I’m sorry you heard that, Rusty. That was not…” She trailed off vaguely. 

 

“I’m not.” 

 

Looking up in surprise, Sharon saw a somewhat hopeful expression settle upon his features. 

 

“I mean, you guys aren’t still mad, right? Because I _really_ don’t want to cause some big fight.” 

 

“No,” Sharon replied. “We aren’t still mad.” 

 

He looked relieved. 

 

“Good. But I’m glad I heard it. Because I liked hearing what you said about me.” He held up his hands a little defensively. “Don’t get me wrong, it sucked. But it was sorta cool hearing you take my side.” 

 

Sharon nodded. He was starting to get it. This unconditional love thing. This idea that she could shout and seethe at her family (him included) and it wouldn’t be the end of their relationship. But his obvious surprise that she had defended him so vehemently still gave her pause. She was about to say, _I’m always on your side_ , but Rusty continued. 

 

“And to be honest, I always thought your yelling voice was reserved for me and criminals.” He grinned sheepishly across at her. “I haven’t heard you that angry since that day with Daniel—“ He stopped speaking suddenly, and Sharon saw some sort of realization dawn. 

 

“Right,” she said quietly. “I don’t let my anger take over for just anyone.” 

 

They sat in silence for a moment. 

 

Sharon knew they were both thinking of that day. The way her rage and disbelief had almost rendered her speechless. _“That you even have to ask that, after seeing those pictures!”_ Sharon knew she had a reputation as an ice queen, who never gave an emotional response unless it was absolutely necessary. She drew strength from it. _“You’re not cut out for the job._ ” But when she did lose her carefully guarded calmness, it was cold. It was strong. Her rage in defense of her children was as unyielding as her love. 

 

Rusty finally spoke again, slowly and deliberately, like he was working something out. “So did you know, then?” 

 

“Know what?” 

 

“That you were going to keep me as long as you have?”

 

Sharon reached up and slipped her glasses off, hooking them on the front of her shirt as she considered the question carefully. 

 

“I knew after the first week,” she said finally. “I suspected it even while I was shouting at you about _my_ living room,” she smirked a little ruefully at the memory. “But when I thought I’d lost you, that’s when I knew.” She looked at him steadily from her perch on a stool. “That’s when I knew you’d always have a home here.” 

 

Rusty nodded, finishing his soda silently. There was a long pause. 

 

“Yeah.” He looked up. “I still say we should wait a little, until Ricky is more comfortable.” 

 

Sharon shook her head. “No. If that’s the only reason, we’re not putting it off. It’s too important.” She got to her feet and walked around the counter toward him. Wordlessly, she brought both hands up to his face, holding it for just a moment and looking at him kindly. “Alright?” 

 

He sighed. “Alright.” 

 

They both heard keys jingle in the door at that moment, and turned to see Ricky walk back in with a take-out bag. 

 

“Perfect timing!” Sharon exclaimed and reached out to take the bag from Ricky. “You two get some glasses and plates out on the table, please.” 

 

Ricky looked over the top of his mother’s head to Rusty over by the table. “Sorry, I wasn’t really sure what you liked. But I figure there’s enough here to make do.” He took some plates down from a cabinet and started distributing them around the table. “Next time you’ll have to come along so I can figure out what you like.” 

 

Sharon watched from behind the sink as Rusty looked over at her a little uncertainly. She nodded encouragingly as he placed the glasses and silverware around the table, saying, “Yeah. Maybe. I mean, I’m not really picky.”

 

Snorting a little as she brought the cartons of food to the table and they sat down, Sharon made a little sound of disbelief at his words. 

 

“Oh, come on, Sharon. Not liking kale does _not_ make me picky.” Rusty rolled his eyes as he dug into the food before him. 

 

“I didn’t say anything,” Sharon said a little amusedly, glancing over at Ricky beside her. Ricky was silent for a moment, seeming to just observe while he ate. 

 

Finally, he spoke. “So, I hear you play chess, Rusty.” 

 

Rusty looked up from his food, a little uncertain yet again. Sharon watched quietly, slowly eating. 

 

“Yeah. I mean, yes. I played on a team for a while when I was in school. And I like to go play in the park not too far from here.” 

 

Ricky nodded. “Mom says you’re pretty good.” 

 

Sharon smiled, but still remained silent. 

 

Ricky continued, “You ever play with a professional?” 

 

Rusty shook his head. “No. Dr. Joe is really good. Probably the best I’ve played with. But he’s not a pro or anything.” 

 

Ricky shot Sharon a questioning look at the reference, but she just subtly shook her head, refusing to open that particular can of worms at this time. Rusty was touchy about therapy as it was, and what with Ricky’s attempted psychoanalysis that morning…They were not going there. 

 

“Well, there’s this guy I work with up north who’s a highly rated professional. You and Mom should come up sometime. I could set up a meeting. Or a game. From what Mom says, I think you could take him.” 

 

Relaxing visibly at Ricky’s obvious attempt to turn over a new leaf, Sharon smiled. “So Ricky,” she said, changing the subject, “tell us about this new company of yours. I want to hear the whole story.” 

 

She and Ricky talked for a while about his work; though, to be honest, Sharon didn’t quite understand the actual work he did. He dropped little hints here and there of things they might enjoy up north, but Sharon didn’t really bite. Rusty seemed able to follow some of the tech-talk, but looked lost at the discussion of mergers and acquisitions. He’d adopted a bit of a glazed-over look when everyone seemed to finally be finished. He jumped up and started clearing away the dishes almost immediately. Ricky eventually rose as well, clearing away the food. 

 

“You know, Mom, someday soon you and Rusty are gonna have to come to San Francisco and let me take you to this place… They’ve got the best dumplings in the world.” He joined Rusty in the kitchen, organizing the cartons of leftovers as Rusty loaded the dishwasher. 

 

Sharon smiled happily at the image before her, of her boys working in tandem with Ricky’s new attitude and Rusty’s still slightly awkward a nervous energy around him. It was nice to see. And the promise of good dumplings didn’t hurt, either. 

 

“Huh. From all the stuff you’ve been inviting us to do tonight,” Rusty began a little challengingly, “sounds like everything’s better up north.” 

 

Amused at Rusty’s apparent pride in his Southern California roots, Sharon watched with interest as Rusty came back to sit at the table. 

 

“How did you manage to survive growing up here in LA?” 

 

Still grinning broadly at the playful dig, Sharon just observed the two young men for a moment. It was sweet how Rusty seemed to feel the need to defend the value of his own and, indeed, Ricky’s upbringing. Sharon and Rusty shared a quick look. His defense of their situation was wonderfully endearing. 

 

“Well, it’s not so bad, being here. You know, if you don’t mind breathing air you can see.” 

 

Rusty didn’t miss a beat. 

 

“And how would you describe inhaling all of the fog where you live?” 

 

His awkward anxiety around Ricky seemed to have disappeared for the moment, Sharon thought bemusedly. He was holding his own. She giggled a little and looked over at Ricky to see his reaction.

 

Ricky chuckled good-naturedly as well. “Funny,” he said to Sharon as he pointed over at Rusty. “He’s a funny guy.”

 

Shrugging in acquiescence, Sharon grinned, still remaining relatively silent. She and Rusty shared another look, Sharon assuring him that it was okay, Rusty still a little unsure but pushing through. 

 

“Okay,” Ricky said a little more seriously, coming back to sit down between Sharon and Rusty. “Funny guy. I have one question for ya.” 

 

Sharon watched a little anxiously, hoping against hope that Ricky wouldn’t take yet another page out of his father’s book and delve straight into the sexuality questions. She waited, praying it would be something easy, maybe even something that Rusty could make into a joke again. But Ricky’s serious expression didn’t imply such a question. 

 

“…before you officially become the little brother I never wanted.” 

 

Sharon’s anxiety mounted. She wasn’t sure that that was a joke. 

 

“Let me trust in what your idea of family is, and what the word means to you. Family.” Ricky dropped the question, then leaned back and waited for a response, scrutinizing Rusty as he began to answer. 

 

For her part, Sharon was torn between a little anxiety at the big question Ricky had just dropped on Rusty without much warning, and curiosity at what Rusty’s response would be. 

 

“Well.” Rusty spoke slowly, hands fidgeting and crossing his body in that protective stance once more. “I guess… It means the people in your life who you’ve decided to…”

 

He paused, and Sharon watched him closely as he veered toward that word that he avoided taking on so directly. _Love_. Sharon knew he was careful with that word. He didn’t use it idly. In truth, Sharon knew what a big deal it was for him to use it in front of someone he was just coming to know, with the understanding that this love was something they would share. Rusty was just as private as Sharon herself was. And there was something incredibly loving in his willingness to share this emotional ideal. 

 

 “…to love, no matter what.” 

 

Rusty stopped again, and Sharon could tell he was aware of the way she was looking at him, that he was a little embarrassed by it. But she didn’t look away. 

 

“…And the people who are going to love you back, no matter what.” 

 

He finished, and his eyes slowly came back around to meet hers, seeming to ask if that was the right answer. She smiled warmly and looked over at Ricky, communicating to Rusty that it wasn’t for her to judge, this time. 

 

“Sounds pretty good to me,” she finally said, looking between them hopefully. Ricky finally smiled, a little of the tension dissipating. “Loving each other no matter what.” She looked from Ricky to Rusty, communicating something different to each child, but still somehow with equal love. 

 

Finally, Ricky seemed to be satisfied and he relaxed, almost winking at Rusty as he said, “Not bad,” and Rusty relaxed as though he’d just passed a crucial test. 

 

Looking on with pride at the whole-hearted attempt at a change she was witnessing in Ricky, Sharon waited again with somewhat bated breath to see how this might end. 

 

“Alright, little brother,” Ricky leaned forward again, and Sharon suddenly found that as terrible and inexpressible as her anger had been this morning, her pride in his abrupt turnaround was equally wonderful and inexpressible. 

 

“Have any questions for me?”

 

Sharon watched Rusty think about it for a moment seriously, then suddenly come up with one. He sat up straighter and leaned forward a little. 

 

“Yeah, uh, just one.”

 

“Shoot.” 

 

Ricky spoke with a friendly, open tone, and Sharon looked on with curiosity. There was none of the anxiety she’d felt when Ricky had asked something of Rusty, but she was still infinitely interested in this new dynamic emerging between her two boys. And Rusty had that mysterious look on his face that usually foreshadowed a rug being pulled from beneath someone’s feet. 

 

“Who cuts your hair?”

 

At that, Sharon lost her quiet demeanor, giggling into her chest at the sudden unexpected lightness of the question, snorting in her amusement at Ricky’s expense.  

 

Looking a little offended, mostly at her snorting laughter at his expense rather than Rusty’s question itself, he looked over at her, affronted. 

 

“Wh-What? Don’t snort-laugh!” 

 

He looked seriously offended, and Sharon tried to reign in the laughter, but to no avail. Rusty had a point. 

 

“Don’t be laughing!” 

 

Ricky finally seemed to give up and turned back to Rusty, who was also laughing at both Sharon’s reaction and the ridiculous hairstyle on full display at the moment. 

 

“I cut my hair, it saves me tons of money…” he finally cracked up at the sight and sounds of both Sharon and Rusty openly giggling at him. “What?!” 

 

Trying to hold in full-throttled laughter, Sharon’s voice was high and marked by withheld giggles as she reached up to ruffle Ricky’s hair, half disbelieving, half affectionately. “Well that explains it!” She touched his face a little sympathetically as she continued to giggle and laugh from her seat. 

 

Finally, Ricky seemed to give in. “Okay, alright. Like a lot of other decisions I’ve made recently,” he looked meaningfully over at Sharon, “I am… re-thinking it.”

 

“Thank God,” Rusty immediately chimed in, while Sharon continued to laugh, partly at Rusty’s comeback, and partly at the unfortunate hair flying every which way on Ricky’s head. 

 

“I am, I’m—stop it—“ he directed the last words at his mother again, who seemed unable to contain her laughter anymore. “—I’m re-thinking it.” 

 

Sharon’s hands were over her face, trying to hold in the sound as she rocked slightly back and forth in her chair. 

 

“Seriously, man,” Rusty broke in again, “you’ve got to fix that.” 

 

Ricky looked defeated, glancing from one giggling face to the other. “You two are ridiculous. Are you always like this?” 

 

Sharon finally seemed to be able to breathe again, the laughter subsiding somewhat. “You just seem to have this affect on us.” At his expression of consternation, Sharon dissolved into giggles again. 

 

“Fine. Do you two know a hair place? I’ll go tomorrow if it will make you two stop!” 

 

Sharon was still lost to the giggles, but Rusty piped up, “Have you met your mother? She’s all about proper hair-care! Like, how are you two related?” 

 

Ricky just rolled his eyes. “You’re totally wasted on me, Mom, happy? Now do you know a place?” 

 

Finally surfacing, Sharon nodded. “There’s a walk-in place not far from here. We’ll take you tomorrow,” she managed to get out, before Rusty’s eyes met hers again and they both collapsed into giggles. 

 

“Rusty, you are a very bad influence on her!” Ricky jumped up from the table and headed back down the hall to the shower, Sharon and Rusty’s laughter echoing behind him.


End file.
